


Why Don't You Talk To Each Other?

by MyVisionIsDying



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Amanda dwells on the past, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Feelings, Grief/Mourning, I don't know how to tag this oops, Love, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Michael's funeral even though he's not dead, Trevor is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 18:46:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9620735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyVisionIsDying/pseuds/MyVisionIsDying
Summary: They might not believe it, but he was the only thing they had in common.





	

Even on a particularly sunny day, the winter cold doesn’t hesitate to harshly bite and claw at people’s skin while the falling snow blankets every available surface in soft sheets- crisp to the touch, tiny flakes clutching to strands of dampened hair or leaving equally tiny droplets on faces that are already wet from warm tears. But then, it is the Midwest after all, where winter is welcomed with open arms too wide that it takes advantage of with its bitter blizzards that wear down the smaller, more rural towns. And people desperately wish to be someplace else like San Andreas, the golden state with blissful warmth and rich sunshine almost impossibly all year round that both tourists and residents alike seem to worship on the beaches of Los Santos. Even somewhere such as Liberty City where the weather is certainly more forgiving during the colder months sounds more appealing than what’s on offer here.

In North Yankton, a funeral has finished and most have begun to leave after paying their last respects to the freshly filled grave where Michael Townley now rests peacefully, six feet under. He was shot, from a bank job gone wrong. Bled out right in front of the cops, or so that’s what the papers are saying all over their front pages; extremely exaggerated news stories gathering interest or attention or some other senseless bullshit.

Amanda’s stood several feet away, her eyes glued towards the gravestone but spare an occasional glance over her shoulder. This experience is an odd one. Considering that she’s all too aware of the fact her husband has been witnessing his own funeral beyond the church gates and behind a skeletal tree that’s partially white from recent heavy snowfall as the branches are starting to struggle beneath the weight. What a scene that would elicit if a couple of the weaker ones were to break, possibly causing the supposedly deceased to curse and yell as he’s forced away from the tree which could dangerously reveal himself to those who thought he was gone. Although, what would be funnier, the reactions of the remaining mourners or the priest’s? Amanda shouldn’t really entertain the thought as she shakes the ghost of a grin away, it is her husband’s funeral after all.

Yet somehow it still manages to hurt and feel as if a part of her life has crumbled and caved from underneath her, leaving less of a path to follow and more of an uncertainty with every step. Not because of her “loss”, no, though the act Amanda’s putting on is too good, scarily. It hurts because it’s come down to this as some last resort; Michael faking his death because the very big risks of his job posed a very big threat to his family. No one should have to go through that, Amanda thinks. Especially families with kids who are Tracey and Jimmy’s age, kids who are forming their own understanding and opinions of the world around them and how something like this could leave a lasting impact on them.

And weirdly, it hurts to keep watching _him_ , crouching a little too closely by the grave and rocking on the balls of his feet. Amanda wants to looks away but the guilt keeps pulling her gaze back to keep staring, biting down on the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood- and she can taste a slight hint of iron- because her stomach is twisting with the knowledge of why he’s so unlike himself and devastated and curled in on himself with his arms folded tightly across his knees and his face lost somewhere within the fabric of his jacket. It’s all thanks to Amanda, so she assumes.

For just over a decade she’s known him, Amanda has never seen Trevor Philips so vulnerable. A ball of differing shades of black that stand out too brightly against the backdrop of white and his glare, cold as the snow beneath his feet, peeking above his arm to bore into the words engraved onto the too smooth and too clean marble. Loving husband and caring father, at most times is debatable to describe Michael’s family life; however his focus was his job, naturally, having been in the business before meeting Amanda at that one decent stripclub further south.

Amanda heaves a sigh, unsure of what to say or do to at least let Trevor know that she knows what he’s going through, give or take… even if most of what she’d say would be a lie, it would still be something. Her footsteps crunch against the snow, though soft, manages to gain Trevor’s attention as Amanda slowly approaches. He doesn’t snap his head round to look at her, in fact, he doesn’t turn his head slightly at all, his eyes shift to gaze up as Amanda stands next to him. There’s no snarling, no spitting of an insult or similar greeting and if what he’s doing is glaring then it’s a very weak glare that’s being shot at Amanda.

“Look,” Amanda starts, “if I were you, I’d hate me too.”

Silence. Shuffling of the coat. Then a sigh, “I don’t hate you.”

That’s surprising. Amanda blinks down at Trevor, taken aback by the remark. She had always been so sure that he hated her, despised her guts to the brink of wanting to tear her limb from limb, prying Michael from her grasp all those years ago. Thinking back on it, resent is probably a better word. Although, is there really a difference?

“But I knew how you felt about Michael and I stayed anyway.”

That had been true.

Amanda recalls the first night she and Michael did it in a bed. An actual double bed in a first floor motel room instead of round the back of the strip club because the current room at the time was occupied by another partner in crime, Lester, and Trevor, who was also trying out some new shit he bought from- or forced from the hands of- a local dealer and was probably zoned the fuck out anyway so where else were they supposed to do it? It was a thrill either way but Amanda was grateful for the bed second time around. And the looks Trevor shot back at Michael when he brushed past Amanda haunted her for the rest of the night, he had looked as if he was about to cry- heartbroken more so than pissed to the point of lunging at someone and smashing their face against a wall. The sex was great but the thoughts of connecting the puzzle pieces of the two men sharing a motel room and said room had one bed, a double bed, had Amanda feeling guilty while Michael snored peacefully- and stark naked- beside her.

Of course that ritual continued for months, wait in the room while Trevor skulked out to do God knows what while they fucked on the bed that Trevor deserved to share with Michael instead. Amanda felt like shit, as if she was intruding on something and truth be told, she was and she hated herself for it.

But that never stopped, even when she was hanging onto Michael’s arm while he introduced her to God knows who he met to help with whatever score was planned at the time:

_My girlfriend._

_My fiancee._

_My wife._

_The mother of my children._

Each time with Trevor within painfully obvious earshot and Amanda would cringe every time some other instance of lover, partner or whatever flew from Michael’s mouth to refer to her.

At least it wasn’t _fuck buddy_ anymore.

And Amanda could feel Trevor’s eyes burn into her while the entirety of his being was used to keep himself grounded and not take a chance to murder the couple he was third wheeling. It was always more awkward when Lester was with them too, whether or not he knew what Michael and Trevor had meant to each other in the past was a different story but he usually hummed or tsked or similar sounds from under his breath whenever this shit happened. He explained that it took up too much precious time to plan but respected Michael’s wishes none the less to show off the pretty chick he scored with a ring on her finger to boot.

“That wasn’t the problem.”

“Then what was?”

She didn’t want it to come out that way but there’s desperation in her question. A seeking for at least something to right this wrong.

“He fell in love with you!” Trevor barks irritably and loudly, dangerously loud for even Michael to hear from beyond the gate.

The answer is as if it should have been obvious.

Amanda’s heart drops.

Of course it was.

The soft smiles, playful glances, feather light kisses on every inch of her skin… those were once reserved for Trevor at one time or another; long before Amanda entered the frame to steal it all from him in one fell swoop. 

She hadn’t meant for this to happen. She thought it would’ve been a casual fling before they fucked off to the next blind-sided town and Amanda would be pulling bras for dollars again like old times. Michael Townley had fallen quick and fallen hard and Trevor was left to pick up the pieces while he watched his ex-lover with someone else, perhaps more happier or content or something else entirely altogether. Amanda was forced into the middle, constantly thinking, worrying- was this the right choice? Should she have told Michael that it’s not working out because the guilt she’s racked up over seeing his best friend, ex boyfriend, whatever, so heartbroken is killing her as well? It just didn't feel right at how quick Michael had switched the subject of his affection, almost as if he was stringing Trevor along. Amanda wanted no part in that, but shit happens when you're suddenly in too deep and can't do anything about it because you don't know how.

Amanda fell for Michael eventually. It was a longer, more complex process, but then the brains of men were always much simpler (or so her mother said once while her father stomped out to relieve stress from a recent argument). In the beginning everything felt rushed. After a few months of fucking it was exchanges of “I love you”s- sappy shit like that- and then not long after was an almost shotgun wedding because Amanda fell pregnant and her mother _wanted_ to see at least one of her daughters down the aisle.

The pace slowed when Tracey was born though. A calmer atmosphere; Michael pulling more jobs than even Lester’s wits could keep up with so they could have some proper roof over their heads instead of a shitty trailer and Amanda usually left alone to look after their young daughter (and of course eventually Jimmy, when the little shit decided to make an appearance two years down the line after his sister). It didn’t help that being on her own- and possibly a little sexually frustrated- for so long would make her think about how Michael and Trevor’s partner- no- friendship or even more so, very close companionship had changed since then. She knew Trevor still held the notion of her fucking off and getting to have Michael all to himself once more. It never stopped Amanda from the sympathetic and almost pitiful glances she’d shoot at Trevor when he wasn’t looking because he didn’t deserve this shit, not really. It never stopped her from feeling heart-wrenchingly guilty. 

Never did and never will. Even after so many years.

Amanda opens her mouth as if to say something but no words form on the tip of her tongue, nothing. She would hug Trevor but Amanda knows what he’s like about that so she stands, silent bar from her quickened breathing and Trevor’s erratic breathing and sniffs into the fabric of his jacket. Amanda knows, she knows and in some sick and twisted way it’s all her fault. Michael fell in love with _her_ . Michael married _her_ . Michael faked his fucking death for _her_ and the kids. Once upon a time he loved Trevor but now? Trevor is left with nothing, with no one (because Lester would sure as hell run for the hills once North Yankton resumes peace). And rewinding to their first meeting, it was Amanda who changed the course- who laid down a more appealing pathway for Michael to follow.

“I’m sorry.” her voice cracks, breaks into a sob, “I’m so sorry.” she hopes that he listens or she’ll be damned to know the last ditch effort to do something good by him will go down the drain, “He loved both of us. He loved me and he most certainly _loved you_. I’m sorry.”

Amanda prays that it did something at least as she slowly walks away, not towards the back gate but towards the car park where she’ll most likely sit at the wheel to cry, compose herself and then slowly return to her kids before their father returns home too for the last time before Los Santos calls their names.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted my children to suffer. I'm sorry. I tried.  
> I'm also a sucker for Amanda knowing that Trevor loved Michael and you know... emotions happen.  
> This was inspired from the song "You Both Love Me and I Love Both of You" (or something along those lines) from Steven Universe. 
> 
> I rated it M because I really wasn't sure whether this was suitable for T so I played it very safe.
> 
> Also, what even are tenses?
> 
> If you want to scream to me about this, I'm on Tumblr - myvisionisdying


End file.
